Psychobabble
by Lady Penguin
Summary: DISCONTINUED. AU. Business gets mixed with pleasure when a psychiatrist with a tragic past receives a client with a cold and murderous one. Sanity is hard to keep...especially when it's your own. Inuyasha/Kagome.
1. The Monster

**Disclaimer**: I would if I could, but I don't and Rumiko Takahashi does.

**A/N:** Seriously, don't hurt me. It's the penguins you want, not me.

* * *

**Pyschobabble**

_Prologue_

"The Monster"

It was going to be one hell of a night.

The light flickered on and off sporadically, and instead of irritating Dr. Higurashi, it only lulled her further into drowsiness. Random images appeared on the projector screen, and the buzzing of the machine as well as the snap-snapping of the slides only made things worse. The images, however, kept her wide awake.

In one, a woman was sprawled across concrete floors; her neck was twisted and her body was bruised. Dr. Higurashi clicked to the next slide. The second one was of a man who had been shot several times. Precisely six times, and the next few images were close-ups of the individual wounds. The doctor paled, and clicked rapidly to the next few slides. The rest were just as horrifying and sickening, if not more so. She turned off the projector.

Dr. Higurashi scribbled several notes on a binder paper. The people in the images had several things in common: they were all killed brutally, they all had held some power within the government, and they were all killed by the same person. Dr. Higurashi lifted a manila folder with the word "Client" written on the top.

Naraku Kumozu.

Dr. Higurashi felt a menacing chill shake her body. The small thumbnail picture of the client was attached to a corner of the folder, and she found herself irrevocably staring at his eyes. They weren't beautiful or haunting, even though the man's features could be considered as such. Dr. Higurashi had never seen a criminal's eyes look the way his did—eerily calm and intelligent.

This man wasn't insane, guilt-ridden, or even bloodthirsty like her other clients. Those criminal eyes showed something much more disturbing. Naraku was a cold and calculating man, and he killed more out of a personal vendetta than hatred or insanity. He killed without mercy, but without the excitement of the kill coursing through his veins. Naraku killed emotionlessly, as if he had done it so many times that he'd lost the thrill. And he'd kill many more just the same.

The doctor shuddered.

She definitely needed her caffeine fix, and she needed it now. Being inside the mind of a youkai criminal was draining—not to mention, disturbing. But no one else would do it. At the age of seventeen she'd flunked out of all her math classes and realized that she was no real doctor. Her good sense, strong will, and affinity for listening to people eventually led her to be one of the best psychiatrists in the world.

Except, she'd never worked with a human being before. Her clients had to be declawed, neutralized of their abilities, sanitized, and put through anti-danger procedures before they came within a mile of her. And she wasn't complaining.

Dr. Higurashi flipped through Naraku's folder and came to a list of names:

Kazuo, Yomata

Takaharu, Rei

Zanshou, Tomi

Zanshou, Yumiko

…..

The list went on for about another two pages, concluding with the name "unknown, Kikyo." _He couldn't have killed all those people._ Dr. Higurashi's conscience told her that no one could commit such atrocities. Her mind told her that he can; he was a demon. It was in his capability to kill the whole nation if he wanted to, and wreak havoc all over the world if he wished. She hated to think of such things, but it was true. She'd spent nearly three years researching the species and conversing with them. There was no doubt in her mind that they were capable of such things. Dr. Higurashi would never forget the day the demons "came out of the closet" and demanded equal treatment and rights as humans.

It almost made her scoff. They didn't want equality. They wanted total ruin and chaos through domination. Except for some. Some were willing to get along with the humans and play by the rules.

What was stopping them?

Dr. Higurashi massaged her temples. She hadn't slept the night before, and she was certain to pull an all-nighter tonight as well. Demons were a mystery—a dangerous one.

She laid her head down on the desk. How did these demons get caught, anyway? It would be stupid to think that mere policemen could catch them. Demons could take out the entire army if they wanted to. She knew that there were bounty hunters; demons and half-demons who worked against bad ones. But _Why?_ The doctor's eyes grew heavy.

It made no sense.

Suddenly, the lights were no longer flickering infrequently. It was pitch dark inside the room. Dr. Higurashi lifted her head up, frightened. She reached for the small emergency device that was attached to her intercom, but it was no longer there.

Nothing was there.

Her hands groped for a desk, for a handle, for a solid surface, _anything_. But nothing was there. She let out a feeble and broken cry and looked around, though she could not see anything.

"What's happening?" she whispered. No answer.

"What's happening?" she called out, louder this time. Still, no answer. Then, she yelled.

No answer. Not even her own voice. Dr. Higurashi shivered; it was so cold. It was so empty. A terrible memory flashed through her mind, and she instantly recognized the feeling. She'd felt the same thing on _that _day. Her breathing became haggard, and she turned around.

There, not very far from her, was the sight that had been haunting her all her life. And forever would haunt her.

"Papa…" she whispered breathlessly. "I thought you were happy."

He didn't answer her; he couldn't. Suspending in the air out of nowhere was a long, thick knot of rope tied in a circle at the end. Dr. Higurashi's father's neck hung snugly there.

She walked up to him, grasping his hand. As expected, it was cold and limp in hers. She pressed it to her forehead and cried. Broken sobs shook her body, and in the darkness she felt so alone.

"Mama missed you so much," she said tremulously. "She wouldn't stop crying. Why wouldn't she stop crying? I tried so hard, but she just couldn't. But she did her best. We all did, Souta, grandpa, and I. _We_ missed you. How could you be so selfish?"

"It's simple. All humans are."

Dr. Higurashi whirled around, and the pale face of Naraku appeared before her. "You!"

In seconds, he was in front of her, caressing her face. Dr. Higurashi shuddered. "What did I tell you? People are naturally inclined to be selfish, bloodthirsty savages. And they think they should get rid of _my_ kind?" He put his lips next to her ear tenderly. "They should really think about exterminating their own kind first, and kill themselves like your father did. We're all the same, Doctor."

Suddenly, light flooded the room for several seconds, and Dr. Higurashi jerked her head up with a gasp. Her father wasn't there, Naraku wasn't there, and everything was the way it was supposed to be.

"Damn it," she massaged her neck gingerly, "what a nightmare."

She glanced at the clock and was shocked that it read 1:00 A.M. She was sure she'd slept through the whole night, which would have been a good thing. At least she could've looked forward to a bright morning. Now she was faced with a dilemma: going home or staying in to work? The thought of staying in the stuffy room made her nauseous, and the thought of going outside in the dark made her stomach revolt even more so.

But that dream…. She had to get out of the office.

With a frustrated sigh, Dr. Higurashi grabbed her car keys and slipped on her coat. Her car wasn't too far away, and if anything happened… Dr. Higurashi grabbed the emergency device and left.

* * *

Dr. Higurashi frowned. Her car wasn't parked in front of the building as usual. That's strange… she could've sworn that she had parked it in her usual spot. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked around for her car; she hated being outside this late.

It was across the parking lot, on the other street. Dr. Higurashi swore viciously inside her head and tried to ignore the paranoia that tiptoed across her mind. It was no use panicking. She'd just have to be calm and in control.

Dr. Higurashi decided to run.

When she got several feet away from her car, she started to hear muffled screams. Dr. Higurashi stopped dead in her tracks and turned her head.

_Kami-sama, please don't let it be…_

Nearly a block away, she could see two dark figures. Dr. Higurashi didn't wait long to see one of them impaled with sharp claws before she ripped the front of her car door open and started the engine.

"Come on, come on," she urged the car.

The car started, but when she looked up—he was there. A demon.

With long white hair and glowing amber eyes, the demon stared at her with dangerous amusement. She didn't hesitate. Dr. Higurashi pushed the gas pedal as hard as she could, and winced when the car collided with something. Swerving away, she drove on and didn't question whatever it was that she hit.

A split second twinge of guilt, however, made her look in the rearview mirror. She saw him huddled on the ground, apparently very hurt and wounded. She couldn't make out what he was doing, but her conscience told her that she had hurt a living being. Without knowing it, she slowed down.

"Idiot," a voice hissed inside her mind, "he's a demon. Just leave."

She looked back in the rearview mirror again. He was hurt—badly. Dr. Higurashi groaned in frustration and anger. She had meant to save her own life, not kill off somebody else's.

"Damn it!" she swore.

Dr. Higurashi swerved the car around, and stopped in front of the demon. Getting out of the car was a hard feat, but once she did, Dr. Higurashi realized that walking up to him was even harder.

"A-are you alright?"

He looked up at her, eyes flashing. "You shouldn't have come back."

Dr. Higurashi took a step back. "What?"

"I said," he got to his feet, "you shouldn't have come back."

Dr. Higurashi's next thought was cut off when pain seared all over her head and neck like electricity. Then, it was total darkness for her. The man looked around him and sighed.

Guess it was time to dispose of the body. Humans can make such a mess.

* * *

Ending note: a big thank you to my beta-reader, Numisma. Now I'm going to plug her two one-shots! My most favorite of hers is Selective Memory ( http:www . fanfiction . net / s / 2125905/1/). And the second one you should read is Alea Jacta Est ( http:www . fanfiction . net / s / 2199495/1/) 


	2. Familiar Stranger

**A/N**: First chapter, much confusion. Probably.

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**Psychobabble**

Chapter One

Familiar Strangers

It was around 3:00 a.m. in the morning when Furugawa's house went up in smoke. The pungent smell of the fire had dragged the neighbors out of their sleep, and when they called the police it was probably too late. When the police and the ambulance and the fire department came, Furugawa was already declared dead and people gathered across his house to watch the spectacle, riveted by the singeing roof and the collapsing walls. They covered their petrified expressions in terror with cold, numb fingers. It could have been _them_, they thought darkly. The light from the police cars and ambulances illuminated their terrified expressions phosphorescently.

Everyone knew Furugawa had been a heavy smoker, and it wouldn't have been a surprise if he had left a cigarette burning all night long. He was also a drunkard and would've been a careless waste of a human being if he hadn't been one of the top officials in the government. And people would've surmised that it had been just a freak accident if it hadn't been for what they saw on the stretcher.

Obviously his face would have been burnt and his body ravaged by the fire, but something else made the neighbors turn their heads away in sheer repulsion. There were deep gashes across his stomach, so deep that they could see the blood and the fat hardening from being burnt to a crisp. And though his head resembled like that of a lump of coal, they could see a big knife wound stretching across his blackened throat.

That was when they knew that it wasn't Furugawa's carelessness. After the ambulance left with the body, people started to blame it on the demon gangs. Wasn't it a coincidence that a demon convict had escaped only a week ago? The one that was connected to so many government-related murders? And how about the murder three days ago? Also a government official. It was probably the same one, they nodded amongst themselves. And didn't somebody see a suspicious looking man with a hat and baggy clothes walking around the neighborhood earlier? At least that's what one of them told the investigators.

_Yeah, he asked me for a light, I remember._

The news reporter nodded briskly, jotting down some notes. It was a young man, they found out from later sources. Probably in his early 20s and probably in his late teens. He had on a black hat, black baggy jeans, and a faded navy-blue shirt. He looked more like a teenage punk than a youkai terrorist. People shook their heads; it was frightening to think that demons could so easily disguise themselves to look like humans. What about his hair? The man shrugged; the guy looked like he had short hair underneath his black hat. And his eyes? It was too dark to really see.

People didn't want to give out _too_ much information. The less they knew, the less they were suspected of any connections to the demons. If they knew too much the police would start questioning _why_ and _how_ they knew so much. Explanations would be made behind bars. If they weren't arrested, then they "mysteriously" disappeared. If they were found – that's _if_ they were found – they were always found dead.

So this was certainly not the first time people saw something like this happen. They learned to stay out of it as much as possible, and retreat into their safe homes. They'd turn on their televisions and watch the chaos from their couches, knowing that it happened only a breath away.

* * *

"Here." 

The thick, folded over newspaper unfurled and landed on Naraku's desk with a quiet thud. His eyes scanned the front-page spread story and its title, _Government Official Killed_. Naraku looked up at the mercenary with a small smile that never quite reached the slash of his eyes.

"Front page," he drawled. "Very impressive. I see you like to show off your work."

The mercenary shrugged casually. "It does wonders for my resume."

He looked around the office, which was stylish and clean. The wide expanse of grey and white surrounded him in every direction and the frosted walls were completely bare. An odd-shaped glass figure resembling an erect man stood in the corner near Naraku's desk. He looked back at Naraku evenly. "I've brought you the proof. Now, where's my money?"

"What's the rush?" Naraku leaned back against the upholstered chair. "I assumed you were going to hand over his head, or something. Even a limb or two would have done nicely."

"It's not my problem you like to assume things," he replied. Claws dug into the flesh of his palms. "I don't like to waste my efforts, Kumozu."

Naraku humored him with a smile, motioning with his hand. "Take a seat, Sesshomaru. You look so tense…"

Sesshomaru looked around the furnished office in impatience. "I just want my money. My end of the deal is over."

Naraku nodded, an expression of pure amusement flitting across his face, and moved to open a desk drawer. Something that sounded awfully close to metal clanged as he reached in. Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes into warning slits as he deftly reached into his coat pocket and drew forth a small, compact gun. "Hold it, Naraku."

Naraku drew out his hands slowly, revealing several folders clipped together. He watched Sesshomaru's expression with patience, and an indulgent smile slowly spread across his pale face. "I like a man with a temper. Shows he's got balls and can act quickly. Now, how did you get that past security?"

"Keh, wouldn't you like to know?" Sesshomaru looked at the files in Naraku's hands curiously. "It was either my gun or their head. I let them pick, of course. Your employees are pretty damn smart."

Naraku caught his gaze and brandished the folders slightly. "Ah, I was only going to offer you another job."

Sesshomaru didn't lower his gun and kept it pointed at the center of Naraku's forehead. One movement from the latter would send the bullet straight to its target, dead center with no hesitation. "Not until I get paid for this one." He mocked Naraku's humoring grin. "You get me?"

Naraku sighed, as if greatly distressed, but his relaxed shoulders told Sesshomaru a different story. The creep was a trained professional when it came to criminals and murderers, being one himself. With a little acquiescing nod, Naraku pressed a button on the intercom. "Kagura, make sure you give Inoue-san his envelope when he leaves."

They waited for several moments in silence before a feminine voice crackled through the intercom. "Yes, sir. It is waiting for him at the reception desk."

"Thank you, Kagura." Naraku released the intercom button. He looked pointedly at Sesshomaru's gun. "The money will all be there. Are you interested in another job?"

Sesshomaru relaxed the grip on his gun. "How much?"

"Double." Naraku smoothed the papers in the clipped folders absentmindedly. "This is a very big job." He looked at Sesshomaru's oversized jacket, black jeans and T-shirt. "You're young. Think you can handle it?"

Sesshomaru snorted. "Keh, I can handle anything if you pay me enough." He looked at the folder on Naraku's desk. "What's the job?"

Naraku smiled. "Are you familiar with the Watanabe Hospital?"

"Sure, it's only a block away from the police station." Sesshomaru looked at the file on top and recognised it as a patient's information log. "You want me to kill a hospitalized man?"

"More than that. I want you to blow up the entire hospital." Naraku handed him the files. "Make another front page for me, won't you?"

Sesshomaru stared at the folders blankly. "Why the entire hospital?"

"You're not paid to ask why." Naraku's smile never left his face.

"Then why the hell do I have individual patients' files?" Sesshomaru snapped. He wasn't paid to put up with bullshit, either.

"Because you need visitation rights to enter the hospital. I want you to disguise yourself as an employee there and do the job as quietly as possible," Naraku replied. He stood up to move away from his desk. "The folders will give you access to these patients' rooms, where you'll able to plant the bomb without much notice. These rooms contain patients who are either in a coma or have been anesthetized."

Sesshomaru raised his eyebrows. Naraku sure did his homework. "And what if they're not?" He watched Naraku give him another one of those humoring smiles. God, he wanted to shred the lips off this creep and feed it to the cats outside his apartment complex.

"Kill them if they attract attention." Naraku pressed the button on the intercom again. "Inoue-san will be coming out shortly, Kagura."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"I want half up front." Sesshomaru folded his arms across his chest, and the gun rubbed against the soft material of his shirt carelessly.

"Already done," Naraku replied swiftly.

"How did you know I was going to take the job?" Sesshomaru gave a mock sniff of offense. "I'm not desperate, you know."

Naraku gave a low chuckle. "Don't be offended, kid. I know your policy. 'Don't say no to money,' is that right?" Sesshomaru almost expected Naraku to wink at him.

"I'm curious as to why you're not asking one of your men to do this," Sesshomaru murmured. "Aren't you afraid I'll turn on you? You're not stupid enough to trust me, are you?" He was testing Naraku, and by the looks of the latter, he knew it too. Almost all underground demons knew of him and his work. Sesshomaru was the best mercenary out there… not that being a mercenary was a top-notch job, anyway. The one mistake they made sure never to commit was to trust a mercenary.

Naraku chuckled. "You're a fucking mercenary. Of course I don't trust you. But I can't have one of my men get caught so early in the game. You do the job and you get the money. If you don't…."

Sesshomaru hated his incomplete sentences. "What, you'll kill me?"

"Well, I won't." He walked to the door and opened it, revealing a man with sharp features and ice blue eyes. "He will."

The man grinned, flashing a pair of pearly fangs. "What am I doing?" He stared at Sesshomaru openly and raised his bushy eyebrows at the black sports cap that covered Sesshomaru's head.

"Oh, nothing—we were just working out the minor details of the contract," Naraku replied smoothly. He turned to Sesshomaru with a polite smile, which suited his black business suit and expensive shoes quite well. "I assume you can find your way to the reception hall with no problem?"

Sesshomaru walked past the newcomer with indifference. "Of course."

"Rookie."

Sesshomaru growled.

"Kouga," said Naraku warningly.

Sesshomaru turned the corner and stepped into the elevator before the temptation to tear Kouga's limbs apart became too great. He pressed one of the buttons on the panel aggressively and leaned back against the rail with an aggravated sigh. With a little tug on his hat, Sesshomaru fixed a scowl upon his face and looked around for cameras.

The lift was claustrophobic, all metal and grey with a bunch of white little buttons on the side. It was mostly bare, save for the shiny metal rail that rested behind his back. His eyes skimmed the walls quickly and he smiled. There, wedged in a little black round hole (which looked like another button) was a flat piece of glass. He lightly tapped on it with one clawed finger and wagged it in a 'hello.' After several moments and about ten more floors, the lift stopped on the first floor. The elevator doors slid away from each other, and as Sesshomaru stepped out, several people piled in.

The building's theme was obviously grey, or a balance of black and white. The walls were stubbly soft grey, almost metallic lavender if the light illuminated them just right, and each corner was adorned with either huge exotic plants or odd, abstract glass figures. Sesshomaru rounded a third corner and came to the reception hall, where he met a dozen or more business suits and expensive shoes. They were all demons, he realized.

For murderers, they surely looked professional and clean. Sesshomaru smiled ruefully to himself and headed towards the grey desk that lay in plain sight. A woman in black-skirt/white-blouse attire greeted him, a smile freshly painted on her lips.

"Inoue-san," she greeted with a bow and handed him a big yellow envelope. "Your envelope, sir."

He took it with a polite smile, noting that her hands were strong and graceful-looking. She was either skilled in the katana or hand-to-hand combat, Sesshomaru couldn't be sure. Hell, with those hands, she might even be skilled with a fucking fan or something. Sesshomaru laughed, ignoring her puzzled look. Walking out of the building, he slipped on a pair of shades and headed towards his car. Sesshomaru unlocked the speed cruiser with a high-pitched bleep and folded his lanky body into the driver's seat.

Then, he took a small mobile phone out of his jean pocket and dialed. It rang three times before somebody answered, "Hello?"

"I've got another job," he said into the phone.

"Good. What is it?"

Sesshomaru closed his eyes for a brief second. "I get double the money from my last job if I bomb the Watanabe Hospital." He waited for an answer.

Several seconds later—"I see."

"That's a lot of money," Sesshomaru murmured.

"Do you want more?"

"Don't I always?" He looked outside his tinted windows, relieved that nobody was walking by. "A man's gotta feed himself, ya know."

"Well then, looks like you've got yourself another job, Inuyasha."

Then, there was a disconnected tone.

* * *

Kagome Higurashi woke up with a pain drilling at the side of her head and a foul taste in her mouth. Like a moth, her eyes fluttered open to a white room. Behind her, the curtains were parted enough to let sunlight filter through, and it bounced off the television screen that hung from the ceiling to the green screen of her pulse monitor. Its periodic beeping told Kagome that she was still alive. Well, that was certainly good to know. 

Except, she wasn't sure where she was and why she was here and _who_ she was. Rubbing her temples eased the dull ache that pounded steadily at her head, but it did little to soothe away her rising anxiety. Why was she here? Wasn't she on her way to work? No, that wasn't right. Kagome remembered actually _staying_ at work until very late—didn't she? Her breath hitched and she could feel tears of frustration coming.

Kagome willed her mind to stop racing enough to analyze the situation. _Okay, calm down. This is the first step to hysteria._ First, let's start off with who she was. She was a doctor—a psychiatrist, a specialist for youkai criminals. _My last patient was a man named Kumozu who escaped just a week ago. _Kagome shuddered at the image of a humorless grin and red, angular eyes. _Okay, now you're remembering _too_ much._

_My name is Kagome Higurashi. I work at the stabilized institution for youkai. My office is only a block away from the institution. Kagome frowned. What was the last thing she remembered? Kagome looked at the spiraling sunlight and watched the specks of dust floating in it, momentarily mesmerized. I was…I was going to work, wasn't I? I might have been at the office already. She couldn't determine exactly, but she didn't remember being in danger or feeling sick. _

So then—why was she here? Had something happened to her? Oh god, she wasn't sick, was she? Kagome instantly thought about the TV specials about people who were brought to the hospital for no good reason, and then later found out that they had some incurable cancer. She trembled and raised a hand to her head, which was wrapped in cloth.

_A head concussion? What, did she fall? Something like hot electricity pierced through her brain, and Kagome winced at the sudden shot of pain. She couldn't have fallen that badly, could she? Kagome grimaced. Sure, she was clumsy—but not to this point. She was capable of annihilating a pyramid of toilet paper, but not this._

"Nurse?" she called out loudly, ignoring another sudden shot of pain.

"_Nurse_!" she shouted, heavy blocks assaulting her head. Still, no one came.

Bracing against the pain that was reeling inside her brain, Kagome swung one leg over the hospital bed slowly, and then the other. The cold tiled floor sent sharp needles up her bare feet, and Kagome had to bite back a gasp, which in turn sent a shrill needle to her head instead. She wobbled, but maintained her balance with a palm on the bed.

"Damn it," she cursed. _This hurts._

If she thought getting out of bed was bad, getting to the door was much, _much_ worse. When she made it there, Kagome was panting and clenching her eyes painfully shut as her balmy hand grasped the cold, silver door handle, with the other hand bracing her knee. When the door opened, she fully expected it to be bustling and busy, with nurses and doctors just humming by. Kagome blinked in confusion.

"Hello?" Her voice weakly echoed down the hallway.

That was odd—the hospital was completely empty.

* * *

Two hours ago, Inuyasha had decided that he fucking hated his job. 

Inuyasha turned up the volume on his CD player louder, mildly interested in the people passing by his car. He adjusted the nametag on his "borrowed" scrubs and tugged on his cap self-consciously. The last guy that wore this was lying somewhere in the dumpster naked. Inuyasha scanned the semi-packed parking lot listlessly, his eyes taking in random patients and nurses. It had been the same thing for nearly two hours now—ambulance, stretcher, nurse, ambulance, stretcher, nurse, ambulance, stretcher, nurse. Hearing the long, high-pitched wail of ambulances and then watching people with banged up bodies was starting to grow just a bit tedious. It made Inuyasha wonder why the hell he took up this job in the first place.

No, not the one that he was paid to do today—but the crummy job that he woke up early mornings and slept late nights for with no vacation or satisfaction. Inuyasha sometimes—always—wondered why he got into this mercenary shit in the first place.

Because he couldn't do anything else—was never even given the chance to, either. People didn't exactly just hand jobs to guys with long white hair and dog-ears sprouting from their ears. Inuyasha had learned to accept the fact that people weren't exactly _nice_ to guys like him, and that, he learned at a very young age, with a couple of bruises and bloody noses. So, what about guys like him? The ones that weren't quite one thing or the other?

Well the _other_ didn't quite accept him either. When he was just a little runt his father was murdered mysteriously and his mother had died soon after—from a broken heart, it seemed. Inuyasha knew better. His father was a very cautious man, and it would've taken someone very close to him to… Inuyasha shook his head. Seeing his mother's body sprawled on the floor and the shattered teacup near her hands was proof enough.

That left just him and his older brother. Inuyasha scoffed. That was until he woke up in the middle of the night and heard his brother's motorcycle roar away. Inuyasha still remembered the sound, dull and wooden inside his sensitive ears. So even back then—he knew what it was like to be abandoned over and over, unwanted and ignored. He didn't try to go after Sesshomaru then, knew that there was no need to. They never saw each other again after that night.

So there he was—broke, homeless and so damn hungry that even eating human flesh sounded pretty fucking good. Inuyasha's stomach knotted at the memory. And he would've—if it weren't for the fact that he was half-human as well.

Then one night, as Inuyasha was begging at the backdoor of a restaurant, a demon passed by. Inuyasha knew from his black business suit that he was part of a demon organization, and also knew that these organizations paid pretty damn well. When he tried to beg the guy for a job—any kind of job—Inuyasha then stumbled into being a mercenary. They'd never hire him to be part of an organization. Too risky, they said. Being half-human meant that you were a traitor, or would be.

They gave him the dirty jobs, the kind of job that was given to people that didn't matter because if they got caught, that was it for them.

His first job was to slam a knife into the leading biochemistry professor, and his next—hell, he didn't even remember. He wouldn't have remembered his last one if the smell of kerosene and gas wasn't so damn hard to get rid of. He was hired for all their dirtcrumb jobs; his hands got bloody—theirs didn't. If he got caught, they wouldn't. It was just that simple, and Inuyasha never questioned it. He was good at what he did, and he did it.

Inuyasha fiddled with the volume knob on his stereo. He wasn't paid to ask why, not even when he saw the filmy innocence and the last minute terror, dumb and frozen. Inuyasha remembered nights feeling strange, too afraid to call it guilt. Guilt cost money and he sure as hell wouldn't buy it.

His watch beeped.

"Fuck," he swore quietly underneath his breath. "It's about time."

He wasn't used to breaks, hated them. That was why two hours ago he had decided that he fucking hated his job. Inuyasha could feel it drain him inside and out, and it was pretty damn depressing to know that he couldn't even take a break. Inuyasha shook his head and turned off the music. He didn't have time for anything anymore—not that he ever did. He was too busy doing everybody else's dirty laundry.

"Well, duty calls." Inuyasha adjusted his nametag one last time.

The gravel crunched beneath Inuyasha's feet, the sound magnifying inside his ears. He was always excited before a big kill, and this one was certainly big. Now, don't get the wrong impression. He wasn't too happy with the idea of blowing up a hospital with a bunch of civilians inside. He was human, too…or did you forget already? But he couldn't help his heart from pounding, couldn't help the pulsating roar inside his ears and the way his rough skin felt in risky situations, prickly and hot.

The hospital was certainly a very impressive one. The tall structure held about ten floors with rows and rows of blue-clear windows, and when Inuyasha calculated the time it would take for all ten floors to collapse he imagined the bulletproof glass windows shattering during the explosion. A small shiver rippled over his skin at the thought.

He stopped in front of the building and tilted his head up to squint at the winking sun.

Inside his coat pocket he felt the small igniter tap against his ribcage—or swore that he did. Inuyasha had learned a long time ago that his profession could do that to a person: make you imagine things that seem so utterly real that you learn to accept it as reality.

His mission was simple, as always. Get in there, plant the igniter and get out. If he wished, he could watch the pretty sparks fly and the mushroom shrouds of black smoke curl up in the air when he was done. He wouldn't and he never did.

Inuyasha placed a firm hand on the metal bar of the entrance door and pushed.

"Ah…. _Shit_." Inuyasha let out a low curse as his eyes took in about a dozen police officers. That wouldn't have been too bad, but the fact that four demons were standing in front of the officers made Inuyasha's throat go dry.

Putting on an easy grin, Inuyasha leaned the length of his body against the door rail. "So, boys, were you expecting me?"

Inuyasha could hear the rattling of the bullets inside the men's guns when he shifted his weight. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he slowly said, "So…. who's the little tattletale, hm?"

"You're under arrest," one of the demons spoke.

Inuyasha inclined his head thoughtfully. "Really? Who's going to arrest me?" He stared at the one who had just spoken. "_You_?"

The demon stared back unflinchingly.

Inuyasha folded his arms across his chest and gave a rude snort. "Come try."

* * *

Kagome's heart pounded against her chest erratically as her eyes took in—not one—but five demons. The police officers were completely dwarfed by them, walled in by four of them. The demons wore black uniforms, similar to the officers' uniforms but looser and more suited for movement and easy maneuvering. 

Kagome's eyes drifted to a man in scrubs and would have thought that he was perfectly normal if it hadn't been for the fact that the guns were on the opposite side, pointing at him. Which meant that he was probably a demon or he _really _pissed off somebody in the government, and this was their cruel comeback..

Well, either way he was dead crazy, Kagome decided. Even if he was a demon, it was one against four – not to mention a couple of guns—and there was no way he could take them all on. Kagome breathed an anxious sigh. So these were the "LEDs"—Law Enforcement Demons. She'd been trying for months to get the government to allow her to psychoanalyze these guys, but they'd have none of it. They were the government's live weapons—living, walking weapons of mass destruction. So, these guys were pretty damn amazing, or so Kagome was told. But what was so perplexing was the mystery behind why they would want to help the government, and when she tried to get permission to set up studies, they simply said no.

What was in it for them? Did they want to take over the government, slowly weasel their way in? It seemed like a ridiculous thought. If they had wanted the government they probably could have taken it a long time ago with force. So, why didn't they? Some things just didn't add up, and as much as Kagome wanted to believe that it was because they were compassionate and kind, she knew better.

She slid her back against the wall, inching closer to the scene to get a better look.

"You can't fucking arrest me. You've got no proof. Is this how the government works nowadays—they just do whatever the hell they want, arrest whomever they want?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The reply he got was one he did not expect. Two demons rushed at him with a speed that outmatched his own and easily grabbed him by the arms. _Almost too easily._ Kagome watched as another sped at him, an orange blur, and raised her eyebrows incredulously when she saw that a Sleeper was already plunged halfway into his skin. Kagome watched as the thin, spidery web of poison glowed through his skin, and was riveted by the way it spread like a net all over his taut skin. He twitched three times before his eyes rolled upwards and buckled to the ground.

The Sleeper was a type of virus that scrambled the genetic protein codes of demons—temporarily. It worked just like a tranquilizer—fast and easy and painless. The Sleeper was efficient—no messes and no clean ups. The victim would probably feel a little numb and lightheaded afterwards, but nothing too serious. And the amazing part of the deal was that the demon's powers were also temporarily neutralized, something the scientists thought up before they started disappearing, one by one. The government used the virus to catch the youkai terrorists and gave it to the LEDs to use, since they were the only ones fast and strong enough to get near a demon. Kagome stared at the terrorist, almost in sympathy, as she watched him slide to the ground, almost like a wounded animal.

And that was why Kagome was confused as to why some demons were willing to help out the humans instead of their own kind. Kagome's head started to throb and she felt the needles spread through her head. It was odd, seeing something so stubborn and rebellious be defeated. It was a queer thing to see them fall helplessly to the ground, harmless and still. Trembling fingertips pressed against her forehead, cool and shaky to the touch. There was also something strange—almost familiar—about the scene. Not because of the situation, but because… Kagome could have sworn that she saw him somewhere else before.

Street lamps and amber and white and slabs of grey pavement slurred by her. Her head hummed, like the wings of a hummingbird; pain brushed against the sides of her brain. But she clutched onto the distorted visions. Then, it was gone. Before she could even touch the strings of memories, it disappeared. She grappled onto whatever image she had managed to salvage, but they swam in her head like disconnected puzzles.

_Why can't I remember? _

Kagome's eyes whipped to the terrorist's face and the eerie sensation of déjà vu crawled along her spine, tingled the back of her neck. _I think I know him._ His features were familiar and yet so different at the same time, and for a moment, Kagome thought she saw him open his eyes and stare at her with feral, sunburnt eyes. She wanted to cry out when they lifted him onto a stretcher and took him away—possibly never to be seen again.

That was when she remembered herself and realised that she would be seeing him again very, very soon.

_My name is Kagome Higurashi and I'm a psychiatrist for demons, the only one left in Japan.

* * *

_

Ending note: yes, the demons probably smelt Kagome. Explained later on. When I wrote this chapter I found it incredibly boring…and long. But meh, I distract from reviews.


	3. Murder's Acquaintance

A/N: blah blah, blah blah blah blah. Neener neener boo boo. This surely must add about 10-20 words into my wordcount. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

Psychobabble

Chapter Two

Murder's Acquaintance

"We will start the sanitization process shortly."

Inuyasha's sensitive ears picked up several whirrings of mechanical devices as he looked around the white room, dizzying from the blinding sheen of light that reflected off the wall. Good thing he got rid of his claustrophobia a long time ago because the walls were certainly coming closer and closer to each other by the second. Deciding that his trail of thought was going to lead to some serious damage to his mental state, he decided not to think of enclosed places too much.

There were no windows in the room, and the door that led the way out blended into the bleached walls. Only a small, insignificant yellow button that lay innocently—almost as if misplaced—on a random place on the wall was the key to opening the door.

Inuyasha shifted on the white plastic chair uncomfortably, feeling his skin prickle at the scent of chemicals and medicine. He could almost feel them seep through his pores, like a cool needle touching the surface of his skin. Oddly, the chemical fumes reminded him of his mother. Of that one night and the look on his brother's face…

"Please take off your shirt."

At the sound of the command, Inuyasha grunted out of his contemplations and began to remove the "borrowed" scrubs shirt. It wasn't difficult; the flimsy material practically slid off of him. The guy he took it from was easily twice his size in weight. Inuyasha's back muscles tensed at the sensation of exposure—it felt like zero degrees in the goddamn room. He deposited the shirt on a lengthy stainless steel table, then crossed his arms.

"Please be still while we take some blood tests."

Inuyasha watched a mechanical slinky move towards him, but he was more interested in the sharp needle that extended out the end of it. The needle's tip looked thick, and he nearly wanted to close his eyes when it got too close to his skin. _Don't be a chicken-shit, _Inuyasha told himself. He'd gone through worse things, anyway. Or rather, he'd done worse things to others. Seeing it was almost as good as experiencing it, right? The closer the needle got, the less he was sure.

"Please breathe normally."

He let out a shuddering gasp as the needle inserted itself into his arm. He felt a stone-numbing sensation freeze his arm rigid, and it lasted even after the needle retreated. Inuyasha closed his eyes for a brief second, and when he opened them his skin was met with another sharp sensation shooting up his arm.

"Oh, shit!" He cursed. "What the fuck!"

"Please be still."

Inuyasha glared at the hovering glass-covered speakers above his head. "I hate you."

"Please be still."

He let out a whimper-groan as the second needle left his arm. This time, he stared at the other needles surrounding him suspiciously.

Just when he thought he was safe— "Please remove your pants."

He looked at the voices above him with his mouth agape. "You have got to be kidding me."

Suddenly, ominous whirring sounds jerked Inuyasha's attention away from the crazy voices to several tube-like machines positioned cleverly on the wall, and Inuyasha could see that they were targeted at several important places—his head, his crotch and his stomach.

"Please remove your—"

"Shit," he muttered as he fumbled with the scrubs' strings. "No need to tell me twice."

"—Pants."

Lookatthefakelinebreak

When Kagome thumbed through her newest client's folder, a puzzled frown creased her forehead and her lips pinched in a thoughtful pout.

Her job was to psychoanalyze killers. Demonic killers. Impressive, wasn't it? Except, in order to do her job she needed _evidence_ of the killings. Without evidence, there was nothing substantial to analyze. Kagome was, sad to say, disappointed that there were no pictures, not even a summary, and no long list of random names belonging to random, well-known faces—hit lists.

She should have been happy. It wasn't as if she wanted to _see_ the victims, anyway. Inside her mind's eye, Kagome shuddered at the various, flashing images of bloody bodies sprawled on top of each other and skulls with flesh dripping from the grey-yellow bone, and her stomach lurched at the macabre train of thought.

But this case… this case was too different. Absolutely no evidence of his murders was there, even though she had been told by an investigator that he was reputed to be the _best_. Kagome worried her lower lip. Better than Naraku?

No way.

A shiver crawled up her spine. If he was reputed to be the best killer, then Kagome sure didn't believe it. Unless he was really clean and amazingly efficient, something she doubted entirely. Most of her clients had been cold-blooded killers, but angry and reckless; only a few were as calculating and terrible as Naraku. And even he had a record.

Kagome flipped a page – the _only _page – over, and with a sigh, closed the manila folder. Nothing. Just a report on the hospital he had tried to set explosives to. Emphasis on the _tried._

"Find anything?"

Kagome jumped at the new voice and looked up to see a smooth, enormous smile and an all too familiar face.

"Miroku!" Kagome exclaimed, her eyes wandering back to the pictures of the "crime scene," which consisted of a perfectly un-exploded hospital and a very unhappy-looking man with long, dark hair. Kagome wondered if black was his natural hair color, or a useless attempt to "blend" in with humans?

"I've got some good news and I've got some bad," Miroku said, offering his best cheer-up smile.

She muttered, "All news are bad."

"Four hours?"

Kagome looked up at him, revealing black-blue circles underneath her eyes. "Two." Barely. It seemed like she merely winked and it was time for work all over again.

"Ah. Want a cup of coffee first, then?" Miroku asked, a concerned wrinkle creasing his forehead, making him look ten years older. Kagome giggled at the thought; he'd murder her if she ever called him an old man.

Kagome rubbed her temples and gave him a grateful look. "I would love one…" Then, her face fell. "But I can't. I'm expecting a client in exactly thirty minutes."

Miroku took a seat on Kagome's comfortable couch, one of the perks of being a psychiatrist. Kagome eyed him from her chair enviously, wanting to wrestle him off it, then curl up and just take a nice, long nap.

"Hmm, the infamous Sesshomaru."

"You know anything about him?" Kagome let out a huge, cat-like yawn.

"He's a mercenary. Past unknown. Good luck trying to dig out any information on him."

Miroku was suddenly thrust with the difficult task of ignoring the cleavage that was playing hide-and-go seek with him.

Kagome blew an errant strand of hair away from her face. "If he's so well known, then why the hell doesn't he have records? Why is his past so clean? I can't find anything on him. Not even a fingerprint. According to the government's database he doesn't even _exist_."

Miroku hmmed, as if deep in thought. Currently, however, his thoughts were deep in Kagome's V-necked top. "He does exist, though."

"Miroku, he's got a picture and a name. Most people actually have _information_. Like where they lived and who they killed." Kagome looked at the picture once more. "He looks nothing like a killer."

"He single-handedly wiped out an entire police squad just last year," Miroku supplied.

"Where were the LEDs?" Kagome asked.

Miroku shrugged. "It was a terrorist attack; at least that's what I was told when I got to the scene. The police were taken by surprise, and he did it quick enough."

"And just _why_ isn't that on his record?" Kagome demanded, her fist making a soundly _thud_ on her table.

Then, she sighed in frustration. "I don't believe it! This is just too bizarre. He's supposedly so well-known, and then… no records of him? That's just a load of—"

She fixed an angry eye on him. "Aren't you supposed to be an investigator?"

Miroku sighed. "I can come back another time, if you like. You know, when you get at least eight hours of sleep?"

Kagome waved a limp hand at him. "No, no, it's fine. What have you got for me?"

"Word through the grapevine has it that he's working for Naraku." Miroku watched the color drain from her face and wished that he hadn't told her just yet. Then reluctantly, he said, "Kagome. Not only is he the most famous killer in Japan, he's a demon. And on top of that, he-–"

"He works for Naraku." Kagome licked her dry lips. She looked at Miroku gravely. "Do you have any information on his whereabouts?"

"Not yet, but I will." Miroku looked at the room behind Kagome; though covered by heavy glass, he wasn't sure if it was enough to protect the girl. "You have to be careful, Kagome."

She smiled. "I know. I always am!"

He gave her a frown. "You were in the hospital just yesterday, Kagome. Even so, you didn't listen to me about getting rest."

Kagome forced a laugh. "Well, I'm fine now. Don't worry about me, Miroku."

But obviously he was intent on giving her a lecture. Kagome sighed as he said, "You couldn't even remember who I was yesterday! You called me about ten different names, none of them mine, _and_ you—you—"

Kagome blinked at him in confusion.

"You molested me," Miroku finished, properly and delicately offended.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please. I had a head concussion; I wasn't drunk. Besides, that was _you _who tried to grope _me_."

Miroku shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who had a head concussion; are you going to trust your memory or mine?"

Kagome gave him a smile, a very angry-looking one. "Oh, look at the time, Miroku! My, I've only got five minutes left until my new client comes in."

Miroku was already at the door before she could get up to usher him out. "Hey… if you have trouble sleeping at night—"

"Get. Out."

"Got it."

"Oh, and Miroku? Try and see if you can dig up some more information for me, okay?" All were smiles and grins now that she wanted something of him.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Miroku asked, feigning hurt.

"Only the best investigator in Japan," Kagome cooed.

When he left, she realized that he never gave her the good news.

Whathehellanotherlinebreak!

"I. Hate. You," he mouthed to the crazy voices above him.

Inuyasha was now dressed in a pair of clean white scrubs, standard for demon criminals, his hair was perfectly groomed and drowned in chemicals in an attempt to return it to its natural color, and his whole body smelled like a doctor's office.

Oh, and did he mention that his claws (claws, damn it) were now perfectly clipped and trimmed? Inuyasha looked at them in horror. They took his perfectly sharp, dangerous claws (lethal weapons, really) and gave them a manicure.

Inuyasha walked through the empty beige halls glumly, dragging his feet and drooping his ears. His fists were clenched and the missing feeling of his claws (claws, damn it!) scraping against the skin of his palm only made his eyes narrower. Somewhere inside his mind, he could hear a voice taunting, "Dead man walking, dead man walking."

Of all the "cleaning" jobs he received, this one was the worst. How could he have allowed himself to get caught? If only he had just blown up the damn place and gotten the hell out of there, he would have been laying on his couch, eating his ramen noodles and waiting for his next job. Inuyasha reminded himself that it was much more complicated than that and that he better fix the situation soon before somebody else decided to fix it for him.

At a turn, Inuyasha swore viciously. He had more important things to do than to be interrogated by a damn doctor; he had stuff to finish, tasks to complete, claws to grow back, and not to mention Naraku and the not-so pleasant task of saving face. The police had confiscated his cell-phone, so there was no way to explain his idiocy and maybe try to keep his money (and quite possibly, his head, too.)

_Damn_ it.

He held up his hands and looked at his nails—claws—one last time and decided that he was just a little bit too eager to kill whoever it was that was behind the door. He looked at the number on the door in front of him, and then at his designated room number on his ID tag.

Well! Looked like he wouldn't have to wait long to wrap his hands around somebody's neck, and that certainly almost brightened up the day. Not _quite_, though.

"This is going to be so _damn_ good," Inuyasha muttered beneath his breath.

Then, he pushed the door buzzer and it automatically swung open...

Icandanceicansingicanbreakalinedownyeah

Kagome peered at the glass window intently, tapping one foot restlessly on the floor. She liked to call it her "demon-proof" room, but she knew her psychoanalyzing sessions with the demons always ended up making her feel _too_ close to them, physically and mentally. The last time…

"_I can smell you," he whispered to her, dark and insidious as the corners of his lips turned upwards. Kagome couldn't help but feel heat underneath his gaze, underneath her clothes._

"_Nonsense," she muttered breathlessly. "There's a very thick, _effective_ wall between us."_

"_You're wearing _Fleur_," he continued. "Youthful, radiant and tempting." _

_Kagome's eyes widened as he said the said perfume's slogan. She was indeed wearing _Fleur.

"_How—"_

"_I can also feel you." She could feel the silkyslip of his tongue on her skin, prickling and warm. She felt like a summer day, intensely hot and suddenly dehydrated. Kagome wet her lips, eyes slightly terrified and wide with an innocence that only whet his appetite._

"_You can't," Kagome said, more to herself than to him. "I know you can't."_

_His red eyes narrowed, not in anger nor in annoyance, but in amusement. "Can't I?"_

_And in that moment, something fluttered against the sides of her head, her mind. Something broke, dwindled, curled and spun free. She felt a shudder spiraling through her, and the gasp that emitted low from her throat was as embarrassing as it was frightening. He knew she was scared, was pleased by it and encouraged by its very scent._

"_Your skin is soft, but prickling with goosebumps," he informed her. "Why, doctor, are you frightened of me?"_

"_Stop it." She tried to stare him down, but the crimson abyss drowned her, choked the very breath from her pretty, white throat._

_A small, satisfied smile appeared upon his face. "I am not doing anything. A wall separates us, _remember_?"_

The sound of light footsteps snapped Kagome to attention and when her eyes refocused, she found herself staring at a young man. He looked almost human, innocent and very pretty in facial features, but the slash of his amber eyes and length of his long, silver hair were anything but human. Kagome folded her hands in her lap deliberately.

"Please, have a seat." She gestured to a small couch in front of her. Even though there was a strong, protective wall between them, there were several microphone chips all around the room and high-definition glass-walls to make the rooms seem one and the same. Kagome was glad for this because right when she had uttered her first words to him, he took several menacing steps towards her, eyes flashing and full of deadly purpose.

She cleared her throat and shifted her position uncomfortably. "I wouldn't try to come any closer if I were you."

"Oh, yeah? Don't tell me you'll _scream_. It'll take me three seconds to paralyze your larynx and two to kill you." He flexed his fingers, growling when he inwardly remembered that his declawed hands were anything but intimidating.

No matter, her face against a puddle of blood would more than make up for it, but of course before he could get to her, something very hard and very cold smacked against his face. _The…hell..? _Inuyasha let out a small grunt before he staggered back a few steps.

"What the fuck…?" Inuyasha's face creased into confusion.

With a sigh, Kagome stood from her chair and walked towards him. Stopping a few feet away from him, she knocked on the glass window and raised her eyebrows at him pointedly.

"See? A wall stands between us. You can't come close enough to kill me, so please do not waste any time in trying to do so," Kagome said, then went back to her seat. Then, she continued, "Oh, and don't even try to use your oh-so-powerful demonic strength because this glass is strong enough to withhold a hundred thousand kilograms of explosives. You've also got a chemical inside your body that prevents you from doing so in the first place."

She watched his face grow into irritation and smiled. "So, I wouldn't waste my energy trying to. Why don't you just sit down and we can get to know each other a little better?"

Her heart slowed down just a notch when she saw him sit as directed, although his face showed no signs of relaxing.

Inuyasha threw her a sinister grin. "That's a good plan; I'd really like to get to know you inside out."

Kagome coughed at his double meaning. "Ha. Right. Enough with the intimidation tactics. The sooner you answer my questions, the quicker you'll be out of here."

Kagome winced at her own harshness, but really, she couldn't be gentle or kind to him. Hell, she couldn't even be polite with most at times. These demons didn't have the patience, compassion or understanding for kindness. At most, they were amused by kindness. Kagome frowned at her own thoughts. _There's a thing called prejudice, you know._

Inuyasha raised one, perfectly contrasting black brow at her. "What questions?"

"What is your name?" Of course, the simplest question.

Inuyasha gave a disbelieving snort. "You mean my real one or the one you're writing down right now?" He looked pointedly at the pen and paper in Kagome's hands.

Kagome sighed and put her pen down. "Your real one."

"Sesshomaru."

"From what I hear it fits you." Kagome made a little scribble down her notepad, and sincerely hoped that he could not see the little stick figures she was doodling. Honestly, not only did Kagome not expect that she would not get any information out of him today, but she knew it from the beginning; it was too soon. "Sesshomaru, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

Inuyasha stared levelly at her. She was asking him ridiculous, irrelevant questions and he knew why. "Why don't you just get to the point and ask me about—"

"What do you like to do for fun?" Kagome smiled.

"I like to kill…" Inuyasha paused for effect before continuing, "humans, preferably; they are incredibly annoying."

Scribble, scribble. Inuyasha wanted to fucking break the pen in half and jam the halves in her little ears. Inuyasha was slightly cheered by the image of the doctor as a kabob.

"Why?" She would occasionally look up at him and give a small smile. Inuyasha returned the favor and was satisfied when she glanced at his fangs nervously.

"Because I'm good at it."

"How'd you become so good at it?"

"How do you become so good at asking questions?"

"I keep asking them."

Inuyasha gave her a humourous smile.

Kagome coughed lightly into her hand.

"How many calls do you get a week?" Kagome squished the pen's clicker top.

Inuyasha laughed. "Thirty."

"And do you accept all of those offers?"

"Only if they're pretty." He leaned back against the chair with a satisfied grin.

"I meant contracts. How many clients offer you a killing and how many do you take?" Kagome jabbed at her notepad viciously. "I know you are a mercenary."

"I lose track. It's not like I count these things." Inuyasha scoffed.

That was when he heard the familiar mechanical whirrings from above his head. Slowly, he turned his attention to them and saw the same tube-like weapons from the sanitizing room pointed at his crucial (and very much wanted) body parts.

Kagome returned his humorous smile. "They can detect resistance and any abnormal behaviours by your body heat, temperature, moisture level and movements. Inoue-san, I can assure you that they won't hesitate."

She brandished a small remote at him. "Also, if I push this button…" She looked at his groin area pointedly.

Inuyasha cleared his throat. "Five."

"Pardon me?"

"On average, five clients offer me contracts and I accept all of them." Inuyasha was willing to play by the rules if she was willing to leave his private parts alone.

"And among these clients, Naraku is one of them, I assume?" Kagome watched him shift uncomfortably and then give the ceiling a menacing scowl as the weapons above him stirred.

"Shit, the chairs were uncomfortable. They gonna shoot me for that, too?" Inuyasha grumbled.

"I'll have to ask my interior designer that," Kagome replied, smothering a chuckle with a cough. "Now, what about Naraku? Word's gotten around that you're working for him. Quite the infamous killer you are, failing to–"

"Look, you little witch, I don't work for anyone and it was a one time job." Inuyasha decided that he wanted to tear off her cherry mouth first.

"One that you failed at." She was deliberately taunting him, drawing out his anger and hopefully, his thoughts.

Except, he only lifted his brow and smiled. "Keh, so what?"

"Your reputation precedes you, Sesshomaru, 'The Killing Perfection.' What will people think of you now?" Kagome asked, doodling another little stick figure onto her notepad.

"Keh, I don't give a shit." He grunted.

"Oh, really? Isn't that how you're getting your money, though? With people's lives?" Kagome wanted to bite her lip to stop herself; she was letting her emotions get to her.

He glanced up at her with a calm that his feral eyes seemed to be incapable of. "Do you really think that I need money? I can take whatever I want. I'm a demon. You know what demons are capable of."

Kagome looked at him with a soft smile and saw how much he hated the sympathy in her eyes. "But you are only half demon, correct?" She'd seen him before—or rather, others like him—lost and confused. They were neither wholly human nor demon and could never be. Unlike full-blooded demons, they had the ability to tell right from wrong and had a conscience. However, scientifically speaking, by being half-human they had enzymes and hormones like a human would.

Inuyasha gave her a fierce scowl, which then turned into a frustrated grunt, and he looked away. "Keh, what do you know?"

"I do know—"

"Shut up!" Inuyasha snapped, hating her soft tone, pitiful and understanding.

Inuyasha cursed viciously underneath his breath. he couldn't let some puny little wench fuck with his mind. He'd fought with ruthless demons, been starved to death and almost beaten to death, so he could damn well handle a woman.

He smirked and gave a light chuckle. "Keh, you've been called a prodigy, Higurashi. You're the best psychiatrist in the country, or so I have heard. But by the way you're analyzing me, I'd say you were a fraud."

"Where are Naraku's headquarters?" Kagome demanded.

Without skipping a heartbeat, Inuyasha replied, "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"You—"

"There has been another like you, hasn't there?" Inuyasha asked, slowly relaxing. He stretched his long limbs with a big yawn. "In fact, she looks a lot like you."

"Kikyou… you've seen her?" Kagome asked, bewildered.

"I guess you could say that," he replied with a sly smile. "So, got any more questions for me or am I free to go?"

Kagome shook her head. "How could you not know where Naraku's headquarters are? You're lying. Tell me the truth."

"Look lady, I'm not lying." But he _was_, and he was damn proud of it, too. Those machines were, really, just machines. He resisted the urge to give a comical wink at the ceiling. "You can blow me up all you want, but I can't tell you anything."

Kagome gave a small sigh. She was quiet, contemplating her next question. "You're half human, Sesshomaru. You can't tell me that you don't feel anything when you kill someone."

Inuyasha stared at her emotionlessly, betraying nothing. _Not the screams that ripped through his head, and the fumes__ that never washed off his clothes…_

"Sesshomaru?"

"I do feel something, but if I told you…" Inuyasha grinned, slowly and almost purposefully. "You'd wet your panties."

Kagome narrowed her eyes at him. "I've seen the likes of you before, Sesshomaru. Don't patronize me."

"Oh? You've met demons before?" He blinked at her innocently. "Gee, I had no idea that you were a… Oh, what was the scientific term? 'Inhuman Species Analyzer,' was it? I thought you were supposed to listen to my problems, not interrogate me."

"No." Kagome's jaw was ticking so hard that one would think that she had a bomb inside her mouth. "Criminals like you."

"Keh, save it for someone who cares." Inuyasha gave a rude snort and closed his eyes. "I don't need a lecture from a woman."

Kagome gripped the bunches of her skirt tightly within her fists. "I don't care that you're a demon, or a hanyou for that matter. I don't give a damn. I know what you're thinking; I know your kind."

Inuyasha opened one eye and feigned interest.

She continued, "You think we're so prejudiced against you, against all demons, when you're the ones with our blood on your hands."

"And I suppose your hands are clean?" Inuyasha yawned.

"In fact, they are," Kagome answered quietly, angrily.

Inuyasha gave a light applause. "Am I supposed to call you a 'saint'?"

"You forget… that night, I came back with the intention to see if you were all right," Kagome said softly. "I knew that you were a demon. Do you remember me?"

Inuyasha laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. "That was after you ran me over with your car, wasn't it?"

"I… I was scared! You were a demon; you could have killed me! I saw what happened!" It was the first time, in her career, that she made the mistake of stammering and letting her guard down in front of a client. Then, she remembered Naraku, and realized that this wasn't the first—only the second.

"Tsch, tsk. Don't get so defensive, doctor. Just because I was a demon, eh?" Inuyasha smiled at her, mocking her pity and sympathy from before perfectly. "Keh, who's the hypocrite?"

Kagome heaved an angry sigh. "Don't. _Lie_. You killed a man and you knew I saw. I wasn't just going to sit in my car and think that you were going to ask me out for coffee!"

"I would have after I was done with work," Inuyasha said with a chuckle. He eyed his fingers warily, satisfied to see that his nails—claws—were slowly coming back. Being half demon had its perks, after all, what with rapid regeneration and all that.

Kagome remained silent, staring at her notepad and frozen with frustration. She heard him give a big, theatrical sigh and say, "Well, doc', I think that time's up. Don't you?"

She stood to her feet and without a word, walked out of the room.

Inuyasha smirked. "Keh, what a fucking nutcase."

AHSHITNOTANOTHERLINE

"I shouldn't have let him get to me like that," Kagome muttered. "I'm a professional, for heaven's sakes! I should have kept my calm and… Sango, what do you think?"

Her friend patted her on the arm. "It's all right, Kagome. We all have our bad days."

"No." Kagome shook her head. "I've never let myself feel that angry before in front of a client… Not even Naraku…"

"He just gave you the creeps," Sango pointed out.

"The point is, there's something weird about him. I can't get my hands on it, but… but it seems like he knows exactly what to say and what tone to use to irk me." Kagome slammed a fist on the coffee table.

"Woah, easy there, hot!" Sango steadied her own mug of espresso.

Kagome smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Sango. It's supposed to be my day off and here I am babbling about my work."

"It's okay, your job is demanding." Sango looked up at Kagome. "Can it just be that perhaps you just let your guard down because of what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Kagome asked, puzzled.

"The injury to your head," Sango explained. "Do you… remember anything?"

"I just had a little blow to the head, that's all." Kagome sighed. "Maybe you're right, maybe I am just overworked and stressed. God, I really need a vacation…"

Sango patted her friend's hand comfortingly. "You're gonna be all right, kiddo. The Naraku case is really getting to you, huh?"

Kagome looked out the window of the coffee shop. The streets of Tokyo were not like before… bustling and full of life. Now, it seemed almost gray and dead, even though the sun was burning against the black pavement. It had only been a few years before everything changed, only a few days it seemed like before she was kissing her family good-bye and watching them disappear from her life.

"He's escaped," Kagome said.

Sango's face fell. "Oh, no. Kagome…"

"I… I don't know what to do. He knows my face." Kagome's knuckles turned white, and the black mug that was in her hands shook. "He knows where my office is. He might… he might even know where I live."

To comfort her, Sango steadied her friend's mug with one hand, which had been experiencing a minor earthquake from Kagome's hands. "Kagome, you must get protection immediately."

Kagome let out a dry, broken laugh. "That'll attract him even more; I know how his mind works. He'll revel in the fact that I fear him and besides, no bodyguard can stop him… not even if I have a hundred of them."

Sango cursed silently. "I'm sorry, Kagome. There must be some way I can help."

Surprisingly, Kagome just smiled. "Don't worry! So, how is work, by the way?"

Still worried, Sango decided to let the matter drop for a while. "Stressful as well. All journalists seem to want to write about are the current murders and escapees."

"That's all that's been happening though, isn't it?" Kagome pointed out glumly.

"Yes, but… in times like this people need hope, not fear," Sango replied.

Kagome nodded. As if by mentioning fear, heavy clouds slowly drifted belligerently over the once bright sun, and dwarfed it. Then came the rain.

"Kagome…" Kagome heard Sango call her name and turned back to her friend. "So, you don't remember anything after he hit you?"

Kagome's forehead wrinkled in consternation. "No… everything else is a blur."

Whatalinealreadywhatthehell

What seemed like a light drizzle of rain before became Mother Nature's rage. The night wind moaned and wailed, making the air hoarse and frigid with the cold. Outside the windows, the trees lightly swayed, their powerful stature bowing to the frenzy of the advent storm. The leaves broke and whirled down to a wet, cold darkness.

Kagome could not sleep that night, or it seemed so. Even though it was freezing, beads of sweat dripped from her forehead and rolled down to the pillows. She stared at the ceiling, not paying attention to the thickening air and the hazy visions dancing before her eyes.

"Go to sleep, stupid," she whispered to herself.

She was afraid of thunder, not because it pounded in her eardrums and meshed in with the beating of her heart, but because in that flashing moment of light she was afraid that it would take her into nonexistence.

"You've been watching too many sci-fi horror films," Kagome muttered in an effort to calm herself.

A streak of lightning arced across the sky, right outside her window. Kagome lay bathed in its iridescent purple light and closed her eyes. And hoped. And prayed.

"Please don't take me away," she murmured, "please don't take me away… please."

She felt something cold press against her cheek and when her eyes fluttered open, Kagome found the light had not taken her away, but rather her ability to scream.

"And where would I take you?" he whispered to her, caressing her so tenderly that it almost made Kagome shiver. And she did.

"Na…ra…ku…" Kagome managed to choke out.

He lowered his head to rest his chin on her shoulder. "So, you do remember me. How delightful."

She did not say anything, could not say anything.

That was, until she felt a hand slide across her stomach and lightly reveal the smooth surface underneath.

"So soft you are," Naraku purred. "Does the rest of you feel this way?"

"No," she whispered, "you are a nightmare. You're not real."

His hands slid farther up beneath her cotton shirt, and Kagome gasped loudly at the cold hand that covered her left breast.

Naraku chuckled, softly as death. "Tell me now, Kagome. Was that real?"

"No. No, you're not real." Kagome arched, not from pleasure, but in an attempt to get away. "You're not real!"

Suddenly, thunder roared and she was once against bathed in an eerie light. Kagome screamed, the sound piercing and frightful. His thumb lightly brushed over her nipple and she opened her mouth to scream again. He was disappointed when she only bit down on her lip.

"I am satisfied by the look in your eyes," he assured her. "I don't need you to scream."

When his hands travelled lower, ever so slowly and dangerously, Kagome suppressed a small whimper.

"Please don't." Her eyes pleaded with his, and she could see within the perverse depths of his soul that he was not going to stop. She wanted to fight, wanted to kick and punch and gouge his eyes out, but her limbs suddenly felt lethargic and paralyzed.

"Don't… what?" He taunted.

"Don't—"

"This?"

Her screams were drowned out by the deafening sound of thunder.

- - -

Notes: okay, I hope to heavens that I didn't violate some holy rule with that one last part. I swear rated 'R' movies have worse stuff than that, really.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you didn't get too confused or… angry. Comments and reviews are, of course, always appreciated.


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